Writing Wrongs

November 21, 2005

So Kyra gave me her cold, and I understand now why she spent Saturday lounging on the couch like the Queen of Sheba. Although Iím pretty sure the Queen of Sheba never watched Thumbelina 324 times and then took a nap.

I have that vague, achy feeling you get with a cold. I donít feel great, but I know I could feel a whole lot worse. I swallowed down an illegal amount of vitamin C this morning in hopes of keeping a full-fledged cold at bay. Cuz thereís nothing like a cold for Thanksgiving.

Even though I had a word count jump this week (thank you, previously written scene, the ďschwimmbadĒ scene for those in the know), I froze once the word count reached 60,000. For some reason, that seems like so much more than 50,000. I thought for sure Iíd have to up the word count total, maybe even to 125,000. I mean, I still have road-trip fallout, Desert Storm, two weddings, Somalia, and a homecoming to cover.

Of course, that started the trip down the you canít write a book that long, no one will want it, are you crazy? road. I am now back on the road less traveled. I need to be expansive in the first draft. Itís easier to cut than it is to add. Been there, done both, and really, itís true.

So now, Kit and Steve are standing outside Notre Dame. It was decided it was best for Mark and Vic not to enter, lest they tempt a lightning strike. Letís see for the midpoint of the story, I have road trips, alcohol, clubbing (the dance kind), naked bodies, religion, and escargot.

Yep, everythingís on track.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 3:55 p.m.